


Photograph

by RubyFiamma



Series: The Time We Spent Apart [1]
Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: 8059, 8059 week, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Clothes and Accessories Swap, Established Relationship, M/M, Separations, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3786814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubyFiamma/pseuds/RubyFiamma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gokudera leaves for Italy with a promise to return, except Yamamoto knows this time Gokudera won't be keeping that promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Photograph

**Author's Note:**

> Day Five  
> Prompt "Clothes and Accessories Swap"
> 
> This may or may not get a happy ending later on, and it's not really a swap of accessories either.

**Rating:** E

 **Prompt:** Day 5, _**Clothes and Accessories Swap**_

**Photograph  
**

* * *

It ends with Yamamoto hitting the high note, arching well off the bed as Gokudera rocks up into him with this desperate kind of haste, like he can't wait for this to be over so he can begin to forget. Yamamoto's vision's going blurry but he pulls Gokudera closer, drags him in by his hair so that Yamamoto can slot their mouths together in barely a kiss because he can't stop panting and Gokudera can't seem to catch a breath.

"Hayato," he's gasping, and the hot air he's sucking back is like a back draft scorching his throat. " _Hayato._ I love you." Yamamoto also wants to say _Please don't_ _go_ , but he can't ask that of Gokudera and he knows Gokudera will never stay.

Gokudera groans "Takeshi, _fuck,"_ and pushes further inside Yamamoto, so deep that Yamamoto can feel himself moulding to the shape of the other's cock, like his body wants to memorise all the things he can no longer touch, taste or feel, just in case.

He can feel heat rising high and flushing rich through his veins, can feel Gokudera's body going tense as he digs his nails into Yamamoto's scalp. Gokudera's leaning in at an angle so close, fucking Yamamoto so deep that Yamamoto can't see anything but vivid white, and the burn in Yamamoto's thighs from the strenuous pressure is barely noticeable anymore. He crushes his lips against Yamamoto's for one last kiss, but it's not even a kiss because Gokudera's groaning his name and then pulsing white hot inside him. Yamamoto doesn't even know, there's nothing he can control anymore and he's abruptly following suit, letting the surge of pleasure drag him under and then he's shimmering through this reality and the next, keeping his hands tangled Gokudera's hair rather than stroking himself through the aftershocks of his orgasm.

It takes him a minute to blink himself back into clarity, and when he does, Gokudera's staring down at him with green eyes as clear as crystal but there's a shadow lingering behind them, something clouding unsure and agonising. Yamamoto doesn't understand that look, but maybe he does and he just doesn't want to admit it, doesn't want to think about it because he knows what's coming next.

"I have to go," Gokudera says quietly. His voice is dry and brittle, and if he were to speak any louder Yamamoto's certain it'd shatter like tempered glass. He swallows the words _But you don't_ down like a poison, letting them rot his tongue black and sink toxic into his blood, letting them churn his stomach and turn the purge of anxiety and heartbreak into a jagged brick caught in the back of his throat.

So, "I know," is what Yamamoto says instead, with the best smile he can muster, and it doesn't take much because not even the saddest occasion can keep a smile off his face when Gokudera's in his presence.

"You... know I love you right?" Gokudera murmurs, looking past Yamamoto's shoulder. His hair falls over his face like a velvety silver curtain and Yamamoto doesn't stop himself from brushing it off the other's cheek, chases the trail of heat that rides across the other's skin with his thumb, and tucks the locks behind Gokudera's ear.

"I know," he answers, tipping up his head to press a kiss to Gokudera's chin. "I love you too."

"Yeah." And then he pauses, like he's unsure himself of the decision he's made but Yamamoto can't ever be sure. He won't ask and Gokudera will never tell.

Gokudera's sliding out and off the bed, fumbling for his clothes in the darkened room, the silence stretching for what seems like aeons though it's only a minute since he's last felt the the fire of Gokudera's heat. It's already turning his blood frigid. Yamamoto stares at the ceiling for a moment, tries to cure the throbbing ache he feels branching out from his chest and seeping into his bones but he suspects no amount of time will help. The air in here is stifling and the tension is nearly tangible, but Yamamoto can't bring himself to move; can't bring himself to crack a window, get a glass of water, beg on his knees for Gokudera to stay.

"I would stay the night but I -" Gokudera drops something on the floor, it's loud and clanging, echoing shrilly through the silence-filled space, maybe a ring or his belt and he hesitates before picking it up. "I have to be at the airport in a few hours and I still have to go home and grab my bags."

"I know," Yamamoto repeats. "It's okay." Now it's his turn to roll off the bed, he supposes, and maybe try to work warmth into his rigid joints so that he can move but it's difficult when every one of his limbs feels heavy like they've been encased in cement. Yamamoto grabs his boxers off the floor and pulls them on and the effort alone is enough to exhaust him, is tiring enough to make him want to crawl back under the sheets that smell like heady spice and rich smoke, like _Gokudera_ , and never leave.

He turns when Gokudera clears his throat, he's standing in the doorway of Yamamoto's bedroom and the light from the hallway glows behind his silhouette and illuminates a golden halo off his hair making Gokudera appear like some holy apparition, but there will be no salvation here tonight. Yamamoto's breath catches despite it, and he's sincerely unsure of how much longer he can keep his game face on, how much longer he can continue to smile when all he wants to do is cry.

He doesn't say anything when he follows Gokudera out into the apartment, weaving past the furniture and suppressing the urge to reach out and catch the fabric of Gokudera's jacket with his fingertips, jerk him back in like Gokudera's about to take a regrettable leap off a ledge, and plead, _stay with me._ But he doesn't.

"Are you really going to come to the door like that?" Gokudera chastises, looking over his shoulder. "Someone will-"

"It's three in the morning, Hayato. No one's gonna see," Yamamoto says with a sigh that doesn't match the smile that forces it's way out onto his face.

"Idiot." It's hollow, nothing barbed and nothing endearing, it sounds like just a word. He's reached the door now, and this is Yamamoto's last opportunity to say something so he says, "Take care of Tsuna," with a laugh because anything else will be too much.

Gokudera's hand is on the knob and he pauses, turns back to Yamamoto with a look Yamamoto just can't place. "Of course, idiot. I _am_ the right hand man."

"Yeah," Yamamoto says, reaching out to slide his fingers along the smooth edge of Gokudera's jaw. "Yeah, you are."

There's a flush of pink that follows the trail of Yamamoto's fingers and Gokudera stares for a minute and Yamamoto can delude himself to seeing maybe-tears in the other's eyes before he blinks them away and coughs sharply as he turns back to unlock and open the door. "I've got to go."

"I know. Oh - hey, um." Gokudera's partway out the door when Yamamoto reaches for the heavy chain around his neck and pulls it over his head. "I don't think I'll need this anymore, right?"

Gokudera's eyes widen and he stammers, "Yamamoto - I can't take that."

"I'm not the Rain Guardian anymore, I don't -"

Gokudera rolls his eyes and doesn't accept the Vongola gear in Yamamoto's outstretched hand. "Listen you idiot, it's _yours._ You'll always be-"

"Just take it, Hayato. Please." Yamamoto isn't sure why he's insisting so hard, but he thinks that part of him doesn't want the reminder. "Keep it safe, you know. For when I come back."

"You _will_ come back," Gokudera says, like it's command and not an option. He takes the necklace and his fingers spark heat under Yamamoto's hand when they brush his palm. "But... I'll hold on to it until then."

"Thank you," Yamamoto chirps, suddenly feeling too naked and vulnerable, like he's bare for the entire world to judge. "You better get going, you don't want to miss your flight."

"Yeah," Gokudera says, tucking the necklace into his pocket. He pauses and looks thoughtful for a second and then pulls something out of his jeans. "Then... Here."

Yamamoto's head cocks quizzically to the side as he takes what looks like paper from Gokudera's hand. The feel is thicker, more polished, like a photograph. He turns it over in his hand and he remembers the scene captured in the picture perfectly. It's of him and Gokudera, with Ryohei and Lambo making faces out of focus behind them, two years ago at the entrance of Meiji Jingu Stadium from the inside. He can remember going there for his birthday, that everyone came out to see the game with him and that he had a lot of fun. But the memory that shines in his mind is sitting next to Gokudera in the moulded blue seats with their hands entwined and catching Gokudera smiling and the way the sun lit up his hair. He recalls Gokudera leaning in just before they left and saying _, "I remember you said youwanted to step foot inside the same stadium that Babe Ruth did. What are you waiting for, idiot?"_ and that Gokudera dragged him down to the field and that Haru took their picture. It's rare that Gokudera's smiling in a photograph with him but it isn't rare for Yamamoto to be completely unconcerned by the photographer or smiling for the camera, it isn't rare of him to always be looking at the centre of his universe rather than at the centre of a camera lens.

"I thought my dad had this framed in the shop," he whispers because if he speaks any louder Gokudera will notice the tremble in his voice.

"He did. I asked him for it when the Tenth and I went to visit him in the hospital." Gokudera's tone is soft too, but Yamamoto doesn't look at him because he can't tear his eyes away from the smiling Gokudera in the photograph. "I was... Going to take it but - it's got everyone in the background and I thought maybe you'd wanna keep it."

It's not the reason at all, Yamamoto can barely make out shapes of the others since Gokudera and himself take up the the majority of the foreground. "Yeah, sure. Okay... Thanks." There's a sharp stinging in his eyes, and can't swallow the lump sticking to his throat. He can't breathe because all the air is clinging stagnant to his ribs, his chest is getting tighter and his legs feel like they're going to give out, like the floor will fall out from under him and he'll plummet into nothingness. Everything hurts and he's suddenly _freezing._

"I'll call you when I land," Gokudera says. He sounds like he's further away but the truth is he hasn't moved but Yamamoto doesn't look up. He _can't_ because gravity will pull the tears welling in his eyes to stream down his cheeks and he'll be a mess and he doesn't want Gokudera to feel guilty about leaving. So he just nods, and Gokudera's fingers graze down his arm, brush across the hand holding the photograph before taking his first step back out into the hall.

And so it ends with Gokudera whispering, "I'll be back soon," and Yamamoto knowing that _good-bye_ isn't meant to be a promise.


End file.
